What She'd Do for Love Page 20

  “What about Ryder?”

  “He definitely wasn’t siding with me.” She’d never forget the guilty look on his face. “I’m sure he’s thrilled he was able to talk my dad into selling out for his precious highway project. And thanks to my dad’s insistence on secrecy, he was able to do it without any interference from me.”

  “If your dad decided to sell, it wasn’t because Ryder strong-armed him,” Kelly said. “Ryder’s not like that.”

  “I know.” She sighed, weariness winning out over the resentment she’d been holding onto. “I hate what he did to me, and I think he’s insensitive and emotionally constipated, but he’s not a crook or a liar.”

  “Emotionally constipated?” Kelly sounded as if she was trying not to laugh.

  “You know—emotionally blocked. Keeping things inside. Not letting himself feel.”

  “Christa, you just described most of the men I know!”

  “Ryder is worse. Because his family moved so much as a kid, he learned to never let himself warm to places or people.”

  “It sounds like you’ve gotten to know him pretty well.”

  “How well can you know a guy who thinks never getting involved is a good way to live?”

  “Do you love him?”

  The question startled her. She turned toward her friend. “Haven’t you been paying attention?” she asked. “Ryder Oakes doesn’t fall in love. That would mean getting close to someone. Being vulnerable.”

  “I’m not talking about Ryder’s feelings. I want to know about you. Are you in love with Ryder?”

  A physical pain gripped her as she thought of Ryder’s arm around her shoulder, supporting and comforting her as she entered the MICU. She’d been expecting bad news, wondering how she’d bear up to the pain of seeing her mother helpless and sick, and his presence had given her strength. When the worst she could imagine had happened, Ryder had been the one person she had wanted to be with. Was that love?

  “I think I could have fallen in love with him,” she said. “Very easily.”

  “Then I hope things aren’t as bad as they seem right now,” Kelly said. “I hope you get another chance.”

  Christa sighed. What good was a second chance if Ryder wouldn’t—or couldn’t—change? She needed things from him that he couldn’t give. “Right now, I have to concentrate on finding a job and a new place to live,” she said.

  “I thought your new marketing business was your job.”

  “A new business takes time to start bringing in income. I’ve got to start earning a paycheck right away if I’m going to pay rent. I doubt my parents plan on me moving with them.”

  “How long do you have before you have to move?”

  “I don’t know, but my parents talked as if they’ve had this planned for a while.” Her throat tightened, pinching off the words. “For all I know, they’ve got a new home all picked out.”

  “I’d offer to let you move in with us, but there’s nowhere for you to sleep.”

  Kelly and her mom shared a two-bedroom bungalow near the beauty salon. After her father had died, Kelly had moved back into her old room and the arrangement had worked out so well she had stayed on.

  “Thanks,” Christa said. “But I’ll find a place.” After all, she was twenty-six years old. Maybe she should quit dreaming and get on with her life. Maybe this latest setback was the universe’s way of telling her that she really couldn’t go home again.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  IF ANYONE HAD asked Ryder to describe himself with one word, he might have chosen “dependable” or “easygoing.” He was a man who faced every challenge with a level head, and completed every task without complaining. He could admit now, if only to himself, that he was so famously even tempered because he’d never really been tested by true crisis. For almost thirty years, he’d rocked along like a boat in calm waters, never really affected by storms around him.

  Christa would probably say this was because he’d perfected the art of never getting involved. If you didn’t let yourself get emotionally invested in anything, a bad turn of events didn’t hurt you.

  Except something was different now. Holding Christa as she struggled to cope with news of her mother’s sudden hospitalization, he would have moved heaven and earth to make things right for her. The pain on her face when she’d learned of the loss of her home had made him want to lash out and hit someone—maybe even Bud, who compounded the hurt by not allowing Ryder to tell what he knew about Bud’s plans. Though Ryder never could have gone back on his word to his friend, he didn’t blame Christa for hating what he’d done. In her time of greatest need, when she’d wanted him to be a true friend, he hadn’t been able to fulfill that role.

  She hadn’t spoken to him since he’d confronted her in the hotel coffee shop, and he didn’t trust himself to go to her. Not yet. His emotions were such a turmoil of hurt and rage and desperation, he couldn’t predict whether he’d scold her or beg her to forgive him.

  If this was what being in love did to a man, he’d been smart not to venture into this territory before. He threw himself into his work, grateful for the distraction that would keep him from examining his feelings for Christa too closely. Maybe, with time, he’d find his old even keel again.

  But even work didn’t offer the solace it once had. Greg had ordered ’round-the-clock crews on the highway, which meant Ryder spent long hours on the job site, watching the pavement inch forward, all while enduring Greg’s increasingly agitated phone calls about goings on in the state legislature. “They’re going to come after us, I know,” he said, as if he was predicting an attack by zombies, instead of legislation from a bunch of politicians.

  So when his phone rang late one afternoon as he stood by his truck reviewing a line of concrete trucks waiting to fill forms crews had spent the previous night and morning building, Ryder almost didn’t answer his phone. He wasn’t in the mood to try to talk Greg off yet another ledge.

  But a glance at the phone showed the number wasn’t Greg’s. Ryder brought the cell to his ear. “Dad? Is everything okay?”

  “You act like the only time I call you is when something’s wrong.”

  This wasn’t far from the truth, but Ryder knew better than to argue. “How are you doing?” he asked.

  “Very well. I’m in a terrific town house just off base, and I’m working with old friends. It’s invigorating being so close to the policymakers and movers and shakers.” He chuckled. “I guess I’m one of those movers and shakers now.”

  “That’s great, Dad.”

  “I’ve got some time off coming next week and I thought I’d fly down to Dallas, rent a car and drive out to see you.”

  “Oh, uh—” He wanted to say that now was not the best time. Not that he and Dad didn’t get along, but the man couldn’t stop being a father—or a colonel. Giving orders was as natural to him as breathing, even when the person he was ordering around was his son.

  “How long has it been? Three years or so? Too long, in any case. I’m really anxious to see you.”

  “Sure, Dad. I look forward to seeing you, too.”

  “I’ve been looking at flights and I can be there Monday. Don’t worry about putting me up at your place. I’ll get a hotel room.”

  “Cedar Grove doesn’t have a hotel or motel, Dad. But it’s okay. I’ve got a spare bedroom.” The futon stored there wasn’t the most attractive in the world, but his dad probably wouldn’t care.

  “I’ll text you my exact schedule when I have it.”

  They said good-bye and Ryder hung up, feeling as if he’d just been run over by one of his own road machines. What would Dad think of sleepy Cedar Grove? Ryder would take him to dinner at the Blue Bell and the Burger Barn, maybe spend a day fishing at the place Paul had shown him. They could head into Dallas for a day—though when Ryder would manage the time to
do all this was anyone’s guess. He might have to turn his dad loose on the town. Maybe Paul could help him find ways to entertain his father while he was here.

  His phone rang again and he stifled a groan. “Hello, Mom,” he said, forcing a cheer into his voice that he didn’t feel.

  “Your father tells me he’s coming to Dallas. He says he’s coming to see you, but he asked me to dinner.”

  “He is coming to see me. Are you going to have dinner with him?”

  “I told him I’d think about it. Do you think I should?”

  Ryder blinked. It wasn’t like his mother to sound so indecisive. “That’s up to you, Mom.”

  “I was married to the man thirty-five years. I suppose dinner wouldn’t hurt.”

  “Do what you want, Mom.”

  “Maybe you could come and have dinner with us.”

  Ryder imagined sitting between his divorced parents while they made awkward conversation. “No. This is between you and Dad.”

  “I just thought the three of us...”

  “I have to get back to work, Mom. You do what you think is right. Everything will be fine.”

  He ended the call and stared at the phone. He wanted to call Christa, to ask for advice on dealing with his dad, and laugh with her at the awkwardness of parents who suddenly turned to him for advice. Talking with her always sorted out his thoughts and helped him feel better.

  But that wasn’t an option right now. Maybe it never would be again. The thought sent a dull, throbbing pain up through his chest.

  He pocketed the phone and pushed the pain away. He needed to buy sheets for the futon. The way to cope with all these changes was to not think of them. Do one thing at a time and eventually time passed and you woke up on the other side of whatever had hurt you, whether it was a move away from friends and home, your parents’ divorce, or the loss of the one woman you might have loved.

  * * *

  “NO OPENINGS AT ALL? Do you know anyone else who might be hiring? Oh, all right. Well, thank you for your time.” Christa disconnected the call and laid her phone beside her, then checked off another name on the list on the legal pad in front of her. She had spent the morning calling everyone she knew who was working in her field, asking about leads for jobs. So far she’d come up with a big, fat zero.

  She had one more name she could call, though she didn’t hold out much hope he’d be able to help her. As she’d predicted, she’d never received a call back from the marketing firm she’d interviewed with in Dallas, and Chad Bremer had never phoned to ask her out, either. But she still had his card, and the worst that could happen now was that he, like everyone else she’d spoken with this morning, wouldn’t be able to help her. She had nothing to lose. She picked up the phone.

  He answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

  “Hello, Chad? This is Christa Montgomery. I interviewed with you a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Christa! Hey, good to hear from you.”

  “Have you filled the position I interviewed for?”

  “Oh, yeah, sorry. We had so many good applicants and...”

  “It’s okay. I just wondered if you knew anyone else who might be hiring.”

  “No, I sure don’t. But if I hear of anything, I’ll be sure to let you know. How are you doing?”

  He sounded genuinely concerned. “I’m doing okay. I was all set to start my own company, specializing in small business, and then some things came up and I decided I really needed to find a job with someone else.”

  “That’s too bad. Sounds like you found a good niche to fill. We occasionally get calls from people whose projects are too small to warrant the fees we have to charge. I could have steered them to you.”

  “Maybe it will happen someday. For now, I’m calling everyone I know to put out the word I’m still looking.”

  “I’ll keep my ears open for you.”

  “Thanks. How are you doing?”

  “Great, actually. I just got engaged.”

  “Congratulations.” Maybe she’d misread his previous interest in her.

  “It’s the funniest thing. The day after you interviewed with us, in fact, I had to go to a cousin’s wedding out in Weatherford. I ran into the woman I’d dated all through college and it was as if we’d never been apart.”

  “I guess she was the one for you all along.”

  “To be honest, I don’t think I ever really stopped loving her, but seeing her again after some time apart made me realize how truly special she is.”

  “That’s great, Chad.” She didn’t even know this woman and she felt a small stab of jealousy. How wonderful it would be to look across the table at a man and know that he was the one you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.

  “I’ll be in touch if I hear of any job openings,” he said. “And who knows—I may send you a small business client or two, just in case you change your mind about striking out on your own.”

  “Thanks, Chad.”

  She disconnected the call and made a note on her pad to send him a card. Would she ever want to get back together with any of the guys she’d dated in college? She shook her head. She’d never been serious about any of them; she’d never felt that special connection that made her want them to be a permanent part of her life.

  The sudden voice warbling the familiar melody about life going on was a clear, high soprano. One Christa knew well from years of hearing it render children’s songs, pop songs, church hymns and country ballads. But she hadn’t heard it in so long it startled her now.

  The song continued, and after a moment, Christa rose and followed it into the kitchen, where she found her mother perched on a step stool, pulling seldom-used soup tureens and casserole dishes off the top shelf of the cabinets. “Oh, hello, Christa. I thought I’d go ahead and pack up some of the dishes we don’t use much. There’s so much to do before we move.”

  Christa accepted the tureen Mom handed her. “I haven’t heard you singing in a while,” she said.

  “I guess I didn’t think I had much to sing about, but the doctor’s report was so good, and I have the move to look forward to.”

  “You’re looking forward to leaving the ranch?”

  Mom climbed down from the ladder and went to the sink, where she began wiping down the outsides of the dishes she’d hauled down from the shelf. “I’ve loved living here, and I’m sure I’ll miss it sometimes, but I’m looking forward to the change, too. We’re thinking we’ll find something a little smaller, but with a yard so I can still have flowers. All new appliances, within walking distance of stores and a library...I certainly won’t miss having to drive miles to buy groceries or do our banking.”

  “I just never pictured you and Dad as city people.”

  “We haven’t been, but having cancer has made me think about my priorities differently. There are a lot of things I’ve wanted to do with my life, and I want to do some of them now.”

  “What kinds of things?” She pulled a towel from the drawer and began drying the dishes her mother had washed.

  “Travel, for one thing. That’s hard to do when you have a bunch of cows and horses to look after. When I finish my treatments, your father and I are going to go to France. I’ve always wanted to see Paris.” She smiled, a dreamy look on her face.

  “The hands would look after the place while you travel.”

  “You know your father—he never trusts anyone to do a job right except himself. And he’d never admit it, but he’s getting too old to work so hard. After Paris, we’re going to go to Vietnam, to visit where his mother is from. We might even find some family there he’s never met. I know he’s looking forward to that.”

  Christa tried to adjust to this picture of her parents as world travelers. How many other secret dreams did they have that she’d never realized? She’d never thought
of them as anything other than her parents, static and unchanging. Silly, really. Of course they were active, interesting people with aspects of their lives that had nothing to do with her.

  “I hope you have a wonderful time,” she said. “I just wish you didn’t have to sell the ranch to do it.”

  Mom dried her hands and turned to Christa. “I know this is hard for you, but you’ll get used to the idea. After all, it isn’t as if you were ever going to live here again. You’ll make a life for yourself somewhere else, and you can visit us wherever we are.”

  But that place wouldn’t be the home where every corner was familiar, and every room held all the memories of her growing up. “Why didn’t you warn me this was coming? If you’d mentioned it to me sooner, your final decision wouldn’t have been such a complete surprise,” she said.

  Mom’s smile faded. “I did tell your father he should talk to you about it. But you know your father, once he has an idea in his head. He didn’t want to upset you.”

  He had upset her now; she’d been avoiding him since her mother’s return from the hospital. “Finding out at the hospital, in front of Ryder, was such a shock,” she said.

  Mom patted her arm. “Have you spoken to Ryder since then?” she asked. “I know you were angry with him, but none of this is his fault. He never pressured us to sell, and he respected your father’s wishes and didn’t tell anyone we were considering the deal.”

  “No, I haven’t spoken to him.” She wasn’t ready to forgive him for the way he’d hurt her.

  “I know you’re upset, but I think you’re being too hard on him. He gave your father his word. You have to respect a man who keeps his word.”

  “I can respect him, but that doesn’t mean I want to see him again.”

  Mom fixed Christa with the same sad, disappointed look she had used when she caught Christa hiding her uneaten peas in a flowerpot, or when Christa lied about breaking her grandmother’s favorite vase. That look hurt worse than any harsh words. “You can’t blame Ryder for a decision your father and I made. You can be angry with us if you like, but I won’t let you take your feelings out on him when he did nothing wrong.”